Natural Disaster
by PaintRedRoses
Summary: House's Vicodin is gone, emotions are high. "I can't stand to see you in pain...so I just look away" House/Cameron. Not really set in any particular season. After the season 3 kiss, she still works for him T plus.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Natural Disaster by Alexz Johnson, House, or anything.  
**

_Am I another casualty_

_In the battle you're fighting?_

Tug on the hem of your shirt. Make the v-neck worn as a second skin expose more of you.

Let him see your heart.

Let him want to hear it beat rhythmically. Fast. Rapid. Unceasingly speeding.

Your cleavage is visible. Good girl. Let him shoot a bullseye at your heart. Tell him how it hurts.

That familiar three-legged walk comes stalking down the cheaply tiled floors of PPTH.

"Fuck." you hear a voice whisper, only to realize its your own. Close your eyes, open them-wider than before. Because now you realize you're a statue of a Greek goddess in his cluttered office. Shove your mission in your lab-coat pocket.

"Where's my Vicodin?" her grits through his teeth.

Stay silent. Plead the fifth. Whatever.

"You're never had any trouble getting it before. Write a new prescription." you suggest casually.

"Wilson and Cuddy, the fuckers, hatched some sort of deal with the pharmacist. Don't know the details. Do know, I have a lovely little present waiting for me in here."

You're not sure whether he's alluding to you or his stash. Either way, your heart pops out of your overly exposed chest. To avoid facing your blatant emotions Your heels do all the talking for you as you leave.

"Um hello? Don't you want to give me a goodbye kiss?" he muses, with apparent amusement.

"Why? So you can snag that Vicodin you think is hidden in my pocket?" You bite. What a pretty little liar.

"Just give it to me." He shifts the entirety of his weight to the hand dominating the cane, and extends the other. His piercing blue eyes spear right into your onyx pupils.

You've always had a thing for blue eyes, haven't you?

"I don't have it." you whisper, feigning confidence. You've always lacked that, haven't you _Allison_. Besides, you never thought you were that pretty did you?

Orbs of green dance side to side skeptically. If you haven't given yourself away by your succinct answers, your awkward mannerisms have. Swallow your emotions, don't pretend like you can't see his eyes tracing your figure. Turn the corner, leave.

Before he catches you.

_You're your own worst enemy_

_At war with yourself but you can't see_

Pangs of guilt course through your body. Each one hurts in spots more sensitive than the next.

Head.

Heart.

Stomach.

Core. Run back. That's all you'll ever do.

Run. Run away, and then run back. Stand still, silly child. Learn from your mistakes.

Before you enter, throw your lab coat on an askew chair.

"A-are you okay?"

"Shut up." he grunts. You jump back-but only a little. Not enough for anyone to see. You see him dive into the back of an overstuffed chair. His chest rises and falls heavily, deepening your ever-so obvious attraction to him. The extra breath he inhales accentuates every physical feature on him. His pain and suffering only brings you delight and passion.

Selfish little girl.

Cautiously, you slink towards him. Touch his arm-just for a second. Don't scare him away. Your smooth hand trails from the end of hist-shirt sleeve, down his surprisingly defined arms.

Try hard not to shudder.

It's him you're comforting.

_And I can't stand to watch_

_You're coming, coming fast_

You reach his forearm, and he twists his wrist, just to catch yours.

It's a swift and daft move. Though, you're not impressed. Your eyes dare to meet his.

Instinctively, your mouth opens to object with the force you wish you had all along. Though, meeting standard procedures, he captures your glossed lips with his chapped ones.

They're not soft like you remember in your dreams. And his calloused fingers play melodies on your wrists-still in his captivity.

He bites your lip.

Hard

Letting a little blood peek through your pinkish gums.

You pull away, because it hurts. Well, the blood you can deal with... it's simple, uncomplicated. The iron taste consumes your mouth.

_Everywhere you go it seems lightning strikes_

_And then you crash_

His eyes go dark. The vivid, vibrant blue hue of his eyes, that paradox to his personality, morphed into a dull slate color.

"No."

"What the hell do you want from me, House?" You flinch. Is the silence too loud for you? "Nevermind. Don't answer that."

The look in his eyes is unmistakable-though hard to describe. It's a combination of hunger, loss, desire, and pain. He grips you again.

This time you like it.

You like it.

_I don't know how you do it_

_It always ends the same_

His lips crush hers. His mouth tastes of nothing. Nothing to remember him by. It's merely a combination of colorless and tasteless saliva. Though, he tastes you. Your cinnamon toothpaste and gum match your cinnamon colored hair. The sensation overwhelms him. You stumble against a glass wall, and he follows you willingly.

You want to do this again. So does he.

Again...

The word makes you think of all the "before"s. The first time he humiliated you on that wretched date. The first time you kissed him (and he kissed back)- what a farce. All of those in between moments and looks that made you think you had a chance.

You don't.

_Everywhere you go it seems lighting strikes and there's no rain_

_No rain_

And that hurts.

Doesn't it?

_Feel like you're moving into motion_

_And you don't know where you're going_

You stumble more, nipping away at each others skin. He latches on to your neck, sucking away until the skin turned a vibrant, bruised hue.

"I need you." you grunt

"No you don't," he's gruff in even the most intimate of moments. You expect nothing less, in fact, you expect nothing at all. Each kiss from him is a gift, the scratch marks he leaves on your back, and the imprints on your clavicle are presents.

Oh, silly girl, the kisses are momentary. The scratch marks and hickeys on your neck will fade. But that cliche ache in your heart, well, that never goes away. No matter how many times you screw Chase, or whatever guy is next.

_Tried it all and it's too boring_

_Tighten up your grip cause it's a long way down_

And so you both fall into oblivion.

You make love to him.

He fucks you.

_Watching you slip away_

_It's getting harder everyday_

And then you're done. And it's over. While your vision blurs for a second, he hobbles over towards your drab, vibrant white lab coat, and snatches the bottle from inside.

"I knew you had it." he muses.

Words can't describe your anger, "I always knew you were a crappy liar, Cameron."

You see him pour a few of the pills into his hand before he dry swallows them. He gulps them down painstakingly slow. And it hurts.

Silly girl...

_When you're coming down like a hurricane_

_I can't stand to see you in pain_

He hobbles over to lay by you on the roughly carpeted floor. You cringe with him as he twists, turns and bends to get closer to you. His hands clutch his thigh. Finally, he lets out a yell of pain, and angst.

Louder than the cry he let out for you.

Poor girl, you get up fast. Before he even thinks to notice

_So i just look away_

Slip on your clothes faster than he took them off. And then you run.

Just like you always do.

Run a little faster.

_Everywhere you go it seems lighting strikes and there's no rain_

You think you hear him call your name after you leave.

You stop.

You don't.

**A/N: Well, that's that. Another angsty one-shot for House and Cameron. I don't know how good it is, but i hope you all enjoyed it. Review! and if I get enough, maybe I'll write a full length story**


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